


L'amour non partagé

by HeartbeatsAreMySymphony



Series: Les amours tragiques [1]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alex centric, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 23:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11885163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartbeatsAreMySymphony/pseuds/HeartbeatsAreMySymphony
Summary: He should've known. He should've known right from the start, when he first met them. He should've known by the way they spoke with no words, by the way they looked at eachother, by the way they would always circle back to one another. It should have been glaringly obvious, but it never was. Not to Alex, at least.





	L'amour non partagé

**Author's Note:**

> So... Dunkirk has very quickly become one of my all time favourite films, right up there with 'Kill Your Darlings' 'Black Swan' and 'Unbroken'. And, as a consequence of that, I've fallen deeply in love with the relationship between Tommy and 'Gibson', and since this is apparently a rarepair, I decided to give writing for them a shot. This actually ended up going in a very different direction than I initially intended it to, but, I'm not upset about that...
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I tried my best, but this is definitely not 100% historically accurate. Sorry if that bothers you.
> 
> Also! In My Dunkirk Verse, Gibson's real name is Dominique (which is a male name, it is the French version of Dominic), so, just letting you know. 
> 
> Without further ado, hope you enjoy!

_Recommended_ _Listening: Fill Your Brains —Harrison Brome_

 

_Your heart burns to black_

_You're going to fall in a broken parallel_

 

 

He should've known. He should've known right from the start, when he first met them. He should've known by the way they spoke with no words, by the way they looked at eachother, by the way they would always circle back to one another. It should have been glaringly obvious, but it never was. Not to Alex, at least.

They managed, by some miracle of God, to survive. All three of them. Faces covered in tar, and shivering head to toe, sitting on a little civilian ship, headed home. It should have been obvious then, too: when Tommy had gone back to the sinking Dutch boat for the deserter-frog, risking his own life, and had dragged him onto the boat before himself. But the thought never crossed Alex’s mind— why would it? Such a vile thing, why would Alex ever be thinking about it, much less on the cusp of death? But they stick together, and Alex finds himself growing attached. They were his friends, companions, now. They’d gone through something that no one else, but them, would ever be able to truly understand, and for a while, it filled the void in Alex’s empty, war-hardened heart.

 

 

 

He should’ve known on the train. The two of them sitting quietly across from him. Even after Alex had motioned for Tommy to sit next to  _ him _ , the Englishman had ignored the offer, opting to sit next to that frog, effectively wounding Alex’s fragile pride. He should’ve known that it wasn’t about favourites— not how Alex thought it was, and that even if it  _ was _ , he would always come second to ‘Gibson’.

The train breaks down half-way through their journey back to the barracks, and they’ve no other choice than to house the soldiers in a grimy little hotel, as they repair the train as quickly as possible to get them back on the front lines, shooting Jerrys, even quicker. Alex, Tommy, and Gibson room together, somehow evading a fourth roommate in an attempt to keep Gibson’s secret as long as they can. Alex has half the mind to go to the Corporal right then and there, but something in the way Tommy nods his head at him in a silent ‘thanks’ keeps him from doing so. And the anger simmers in his gut, until it eventually evaporates and floats away.

There's two double-size beds in the center of the room, and Alex makes quick claim of the one on the left. He plops the sack of his second-pair of clothes (which had been passed out to as many soldiers as possible, that first night on the train), along with the blanket from that old man— the one who didn't even have the decency to have looked him in the eye as he mocked him.

“Tommy and I’ll take this one,” he declared, unknowingly watching Gibson with challenging eyes.

Gibson didn’t say anything, but Alex wasn’t expecting him to. Instead, Tommy cracked a stale smile, and shook his head.

“It’s fine, mate. You take this one, I’ll share with ‘im.” he said, and made quick work of most if his clothes, until he was left in pants and an undershirt, and wrapped himself in the thick comforter, leaving enough space for Gibson to join him.

“G’night, Alex.”

 

 

 

It’s not until their second night, that it all becomes abundantly clear to Alex. He’d gone out with a group of soldiers to a local bar, but neither Tommy nor Gibson had wanted to accompany him. He’d shrugged, mumbling something about… 

“More birds for me,”

… then announced he’d be back at curfew, and off he went. But he quickly grew bored of the company, and none of the girls around peaked his interest, and so, after a couple of beers and a glass (or two or three) of whiskey, he had decided to head in early, and sleep off as much as he could of the hangover that was to come. He stumbled his way through the tiny lobby, simultaneously earning hoots of encouragement and looks of disapproval, but he didn’t have it in him to care.

Carefully, and with too much time, he made his way to the room he shared with Tommy and the frog, and slipped the key in soundlessly. He twisted, ready to make his presence known, but as the door opened, he found himself greeted with a sight he should have anticipated. He really should've. But he  _ didn’t _ .

He could hear the breathy gasps and deep moans, as he watched a very naked Tommy’s legs curl around the waist of an equally as naked Gibson, head thrown back, and eyes squeezed shut. It didn’t take a scholar to figure out what they were doing, even with a sheet strewn haphazardly over them. The rocking motion of Gibson’s hips, and the little moans from Tommy’s mouth were more than enough. As he watches, Alex feels a flare of anger ignite in him… and to his complete horror, a wave of  _ arousal _ . But he can’t keep himself from looking away, or turning his back and closing the door. Something, some evil, demonic,  _ something _ compels him to stay rooted to his spot, eyes fixed on the way Tommy’s cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and he finds himself wondering about  _ other _ places he was just as pink in, if not  _ more _ .

“ _ Dominique _ ,” gasps Tommy suddenly; his hands coming to grip Gibson’s dark hair tightly; body arching in ecstasy, eyes fluttering shut; and Alex realises with a start that that’s his  _ name _ . Because, even after his accusation of the other on the Dutch man’s boat, it somehow never reoccured to Alex that ‘Gibson’ was actually some unfortunate soul, left to rot on that forsaken beach, naked and stripped of any dignity he had left. It’s not long after that Gibson, too, is reaching his peak, and then it’s all over. A startling silence fills the room, and Alex thinks the two will re-dress quickly— that maybe this is a matter of purely carnal desire, and nothing more. But then Tommy’s gently dragging his fingers along the lines of Gibson’s face, and whispers a soft, almost inaudible:

“ _ I love you _ .”

And that’s too much, even for Alex, to intrude on. He closes the door as quietly as he can, and stumbles his way out of the building, intending to get to the bar and drink away the fresh memory seared into his brain. Just as he reaches the streets, it all becomes too much, and he finds himself bent over in an alleyway, throwing up, hot tears of shame sliding down his cheeks.

 

 

 

When he finally returns to their room, it’s with a strong hesitation. Part of him wanted to find refuge somewhere ( _ anywhere _ ) else. But he’s standing in front of their door anyway, and then it’s wide open. He walks inside, unsure of what to expect. What he finds is Tommy, fully-dressed, and sitting cross-legged on the bed, reading one of the books he’d managed to get his hands on when they first arrived. Gibson is fast asleep (also dressed, mind you) on his side of the bed, which looks as pristine as when the maid had come-by to fix it up that morning.

“Hello,” smiles Tommy, closing the book, making sure to mark his page. And it’s in that moment, when that rare-smile is directed at  _ him _ , that Alex’s heart breaks in realisation.

“Hallo,” he says, keeping his cocky and entitled attitude strong. They exchange a few words, and then they’re both in bed, respectively, the darkness enveloping them.

And only then, in the safety of the night, does Alex accept that he should’ve known, and that he should’ve kept himself from wanting what he can never have.

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-betad, so, please do not hesitate to comment if I've made a spelling/grammatical mistake! As always, please leave kudos if you liked it!


End file.
